Safe Place
by SerenityRose18
Summary: Daily Anxiety constantly affects me, and to my surprise Robert Pattinson sends me into a panic attack that takes away a place very close to my heart.


As I begin to type, my words flow freely of the stories of my life and sometimes I have a large mass of witty sarcasm, but other times I am more prone to writing in a reflective style. It all depends on the story's matter of heart.

I woke up one morning feeling panicky. "FML." I began. I have a case of panic disorders that like to become apparent from time to time and that night my sleep was affected with the anxiety that influences them. My dreams were filled with horrifying encounter's that included my parents. And while recalling the events while laying in bed, my stomach began to twist and then short bursts of laughter slipped from my mouth.

In my dream, I had been on the hunt for a romantic guy. An ex of mine is actually the main source for my panic attacks, so I realized that my desperation had reached into my dreams and came to find a person with whom I've only read about. Desperation had obviously became my middle name. Anyways, I had found an absolutely handsome and romantic guy, which turned out to be Robert Pattinson, and then my father found us on the floor of my kitchen together. Horrible buzz-kill. But as me and Rob dated, we both gained a drinking problem. We liked to fight when we drank, but we were actually very close so it didn't matter. I came to the conclusion that it was actually my ex with Rob's face. Later on, I had been caught in many different acts that are not parent worthy. I was caught smoking, drinking, and having sex. My parent's had radar on me and I woke up every time they caught me. Inevitably meaning, no sleep that night.

Finally, I rolled out of bed wearing my white tee and boy shorts thinking of ways to solve my situation of being sleepless and stressed. My biggest influence in my moods is music, so I headed straight for my radio.

As I shoveled my feet into the bathroom, I could feel my long hair brushing on my lower back where my shirt had ridden up away from my little shorts. I usually go straight to my IHome located in the bathroom. I turned on the radio and to my luck, incubus was playing loudly. Mellow-mood music is my life. I've never been much of a pop girl.

I could feel the cold floor beneath my feet and it shot a shiver up my spine. The counter was cold as I gripped to it and while I stood there, I wondered if everything would be cold today, including me. I looked steadily into the mirror at the dark circles under my eyes. "Reality was definitely better than my dreams last night. Wait, no, neither are that pleasant anymore. Maybe there is a life purgatory." I laughed to myself at the thought of living in a community that had no feelings. Neither good or bad. My thoughts slowly drifted to the book The Giver. I can't say that I would like a community like that. Honestly, I love feelings. I love them all. "Just not right now."

I kept looking at my self in the mirror. I began picking myself apart due to the lack of sleep. My big brown eyes were bloodshot. "Should've taken your contacts out, dumbass." My hair was still straight, but a little messy. "Sex hair. Ha." I wish. Other than that I couldn't disagree with myself. Now I was on debate of the whole "shower situation" as I like to refer to it as. If you don't look gross, why do it. I'm known for my lack of showering. Not that I smell, but my close friends consider it an accomplishment in my life when I do shower. I tried remembering the last time I did so and found that yesterday was good enough. "Hot mess." I said as I walked out of the bathroom.

I slowly made my way upstairs, still in my care free clothes. I tried focusing on the positive and realized that I enjoyed being in my comfy, but scarce clothing. Upon reaching the top step, I found my guitar staring at me from the stand. "I know what you want." I said. I grabbed it and started to play a few cords. Then it hit me.

I struck something so deep that I was ready to die. Not on the guitar strings, but on those of my heart. As I play, I prefer to come up with my own lyrics and the lyrics I was thinking were not healthy. I had drifted deep into my heart and pulled out some painful experiences, which I thought had been gone for good. My guitar sled down from my lap as my mind flooded.

I could feel his hand on my face. I could feel his hot breathe mixed with spit as my ears were ringing with his loud voice. My heart grew to a quick pace and I found my self in the fetal position. I could hear his words so clearly, even though, they were a year old and buried. Slowly the blackness over took me. I wrapped my hands in my long hair and began to pull and yelp like a puppy scared of the dark.

Slowly I regained my consciousness. My palms and face were sweaty and my breathing was still heavy. As I began to slowly become whole again. Then I thought out-loud, "Round one."

After taking the longest shower, I decided that I had to get out my house. My thoughts kept drifting into unsteady territory and I was becoming frightened. As I drove, I didn't know where I wanted to go. I couldn't be around people. "They have it out for me," I thought. I kept driving on the outskirts of the city. The radio was playing and I thought that it may not be a safe idea incase some certain songs would come on. Songs that would bring me back to him.

I had finally figured out where I was heading to. My safest place. There's a park in my city that over looks the Mississippi River. It's beautiful. I have sat on the ledge high up on a hill many times. I've sat there after having broken hearts, after people closest to me died, and after being in panic. That ledge was my place. I didn't show emotion anywhere else, but there.

While on my way there, I thought about listening to a CD. I had believed that my Beatles CD was in, but to my surprise, it wasn't. Instead, Robert Pattinson's voice came blaring through my speakers. My Twilight CD had been placed in there at some unknown point. And as I was pulling into my safe haven, I heard the words "She's standing outside holding me saying oh please I'm in love." And at that moment he was back.

I could feel how cold it was outside. The snow on the cement was cold on my knees and I could see where my hot tears had melted the snow around me. I looked up and could see his face, he was yelling at me and poured the rest of his beer on my head. I began to cry harder and he told me I was worthless. Slowly the blackness came again.

As I regain consciousness, I noticed that I was blocking several cars from the entrance to the park. I felt the burning blush in my cheeks and I bit my lips like always. I gave an apologetic glance to the irritated woman parked behind me, then I pulled away and just drove home. "That's it," I thought. "Thank's Rob. Round two just made my day. If I'm going back there, you're happy ass can come baby-sit me so I don't freak out." I laughed a little to myself at the thought. I really haven't been back to my beautiful safe place since that attack. I've decided that I won't go back until what caused it has been un-done. That's how I solve everything and I've lost so much with that mind set. I know it's my OCD, but I have to hold to that. There's a force deep in me that simply won't let me return. I've convinced myself now, that I can't go back, even though, I miss it so. I've seemed to place the blame on someone who doesn't know I exist.

I began to drive the twenty-minute drive home. I would have rather sat on my ledge, but I began to feel uneasy about the park. My stomach began to knot and turn with discontentment and I felt upset because of my lack of mental capacity to handle things. I was tired of my flashbacks that lead into the swirling pain of panic attacks. It began to be unsettling.

I finally arrived home and went straight to the fridge. I found my Ben and Jerry's ice cream and prepared to cuddle myself up on the couch and relax.

Later has I laid down to go to sleep that night, all I could think was "FML."


End file.
